


Five Times People Fell Asleep On Niall's Belly

by orphan_account



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band), The Voice (Ireland) RPF
Genre: 5 Times, Come Eating, Creampie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, Implied Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles - Freeform, M/M, Niall's belly/everyone, Niall-centric, Rimming, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does exactly what it says on the tin. :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times People Fell Asleep On Niall's Belly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [balefully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/balefully/gifts).



> A while ago, I tweeted about Niall's belly and my feelings and thoughts about who fell asleep on it, when and where and how. Tanni tweeted back, _"pls do a Five Times People Fell Asleep On Niall's Belly fic immediately"_ so then this happened. It was around the time of Lucy's birthday and I wanted to give her something because she's one of the nicest people I met in this fandom and I love her, so HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, LUCY.  <333
> 
> Massive thanks to my alpha readers K and M, whose encouragement makes me cry on a regular basis, and my beta readers K and J, who did a spectacular job. You all helped me immensely ♥.

_Nick_

It gets dark late in the day this time of year. Niall looks around and absorbs the atmosphere of the festival, the setting sun bathing people in a warm orange to pink gradient. He doesn’t remember how he ended up sitting in the grass with his phone in hand. 

(Somewhere along the line, Louis and Laura disappeared but Nick’s crowd were there to swallow him up. And it’s not a surprise they’re all laughter, easy hugs, and smiles because why else would Harry like them so much? Nick let him sip on his Pimm’s Cup, grinning, before leaving Niall with sticky sweet fingers and a vague sense he’d like to make this happen more often.)

Niall sends off a text to both Laura and Louis, more curious than actually worried. They won’t get lost, it’s only Glastonbury after all. 

Nick flops down next to him, and Niall looks up with a smile, pockets his phone and leans back on the heels of his hands. “Hey.” 

“Hiya, Nialler. Think I’m actually getting too old for this shit.”

“Nah.” Niall laughs. “You’re not even, what? Thirty-Five?” 

Nick raises a single eyebrow at him, his voice shrill and mock scandalised. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not too old. You know that.” 

“‘Course I know that.” He tuts, shaking his head at Niall. “My body, however, doesn’t.”

“Oh?” 

“It’s nothing, just.” Nick waves his hand a little dismissively. “My back is killing me.” 

Niall grimaces. He knows how it is. “That sucks, man. You should relax.”

He lies down flat on the ground, eyes up at the sky, but there aren’t a lot of stars to see, lights of the festival too bright. He pats the space right next to him. “Come on. Lie down, be good for you.”

He lifts his head at an awkward angle, hoping to be able to read Nick’s face. It’s too dark for that already.

Nick moves closer though, repositions himself with a deep sigh and lies down next to Niall.

A moment passes. Then another.

“This supposed to feel good?” is what Nick says.

“It is. Relaxes your lower back.”

“Bloody Hell. Haven’t had my head on something this hard since the last time I had a kip at work. So uncomfortable, Niall.”

“Who are you, the princess and the pea? Sorry I didn’t pack a pillow for you.”

Nick laughs at his admittedly half-baked joke. Something unfurls inside Niall: the nice warmth of approval. Then Nick’s laughing turns into a proper groan. “Seriously, though, it doesn’t feel right.”

Niall tilts his head to the side to look at Nick, and he’s looking so miserable that Niall doesn’t even realise he’s speaking until he hears himself say, “Move over, you can put your head on my belly.”

“Really?” 

“Think fast, Grimmy. It’s a one-time offer. Now or never.”

“Alright,” says Nick and scoots closer. Repositions himself so he ends up spread out on the grass with his head just below Niall’s ribcage, legs crossed and his hands resting on his own stomach.

Niall props his head up on a fist to see, chin pressed against his chest. 

Nick turns his head to look at him and says, “Much better. Very soft.” He smiles at Niall, teeth shining in the dark. 

“Cheers”, Niall says, lying his head back down on the ground. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, now that Nick’s head is resting on him. They end up flailing around a little helplessly in the air above them for only a moment until Nick grabs one of Niall’s arms and puts it on his chest. Covering the hand with his own, it stays there and Niall can sense Nick’s heartbeat after a while, beating a regular and soothing rhythm. 

The noise around them blends out then, Niall’s other hand resting beside his body and his limbs heavy. He imagines what they must look like from a bird’s perspective, a human ‘T’ shape, Nick the long horizontal line, and Niall the shorter vertical. He wonders if Nick is thinking about Harry in that moment, misses him like Niall does Bressie. Imagines this the reason why they drifted together, here in amongst all these people at the festival.

“How’s your back?” Niall manages after some time has passed.

He gets a sleepy grumble in response, Nick’s head solid against him, warmth seeping through to his belly, pooling and spreading out all over his torso. 

When it dawns, it happens as if someone fast-forwards time; the sky above them is now tinged in a rich, dark blue. Niall closes his eyes, allows himself to take a minute while everything around him slowly fades away.  


  


***

_Louis_

When Louis stands in his doorway with a quivering chin and glassy eyes, Niall knows not to ask questions right away and to give him some time and space. 

Not so much space — or time, though — because not long after, they’re on the sofa, Louis' hands fisting the soft cotton of Niall's jumper, the rest of him all heaving chest and quiet sobs. 

Niall hasn’t quite put the puzzle pieces together, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with Liam. He’s able to catch some words out of Louis’ mouth, words that sound like, ‘Sophia’, ‘should have known’ and ‘stupid’. 

Louis never talks about this, about what goes on between him and Liam. Niall’s collected snippets of information, has seen enough stolen looks and heard enough flimsy excuses to put together that they probably fooled around when they were both single, and he just kind of assumed there was this unspoken agreement between the two of them, no strings attached, no feelings involved. He runs his hand through the soft strands of Louis’ hair, hoping to soothe him a little. He had no clue this was such a big deal for Louis, but now that he thinks, they have been spending an awful lot of time together recently. 

By the time Louis’ calmed down some, breaths becoming longer and not constantly interrupted by hiccups, Niall’s thought of something to say.

“You’ve got us, you know that, right? We love you.” Niall’s shirt is hot and wet but Louis presses his face further into it, tears still running. He rubs Louis’ arm, wishes there was something more he could say or do to make it easier for him. “That’ll never change.”

Niall is not used to seeing Louis like this, so vulnerable and raw, small and folded in on himself. It tugs at his heartstrings to see him like this, but what’s even worse is that he can’t do anything to make it better for him. 

“Do you need anything?” Niall asks carefully. 

Louis sniffs and shakes his head slightly, repositioning himself on his side, one hand under his cheek firmly placed on Niall’s stomach, the other wrapped around himself. Says quietly, “No. Just this. This is fine.” He leans into Niall’s hands, still playing with Louis’ hair absentmindedly. 

“Yeah, I can do this,” he says and keeps stroking and massaging Louis’ head until his breathing evens out. 

His head is growing heavier until Louis whispers, “Hey, Niall. Can I stay the night?”

“‘Course you can,” says Niall, sweeping a loose strand of hair out of Louis’ face. “Anything you need. Get some sleep.”  


  


***

_Eoghan_

It’s been one of those marvellous days where Niall had nothing on, was able to just do all the little things he loves about life. He sent texts to people he hadn’t spoken to in a long time, cleaned his barbecue grill, even had the time to sort through his socks and organise them by colour and pattern, although the majority of his socks still remain plain white. Time is such a funny concept, Niall thinks — when you have a lot of things to do it almost feels like it’s passing you by, but when you get to just sit down and do ordinary things (like watch a programme, cook new recipes and talk with your mates), it’s almost as if he’s able to slow it down, just a bit. 

The telly is running, but it’s muted and he’s not paying attention to what’s on, his gaze wandering around the room. Bottles are strewn about the place on every possible surface, the smell of grilled chicken and rosemary still lingering in the air. He thinks about the dirty pans, small towers of used plates gathered in the kitchen. Even if he could move, which he can’t at the moment, Niall couldn’t be bothered to get up and clean it all away before a nice, long nap. Eoghan’s had the same idea, apparently — or at least in sleep, his chest minds being a table for Niall’s drinking hand as little as the actual table minds being a place for his feet. 

He’d be worried about the twisted positioning if it wasn’t for the obnoxious snoring coming out of Eoghan’s throat, his mouth hanging wide open and his head placed snugly on Niall’s belly. 

Eoghan stirs and turns, almost causing Niall’s bottle to spill. The sharp edges of his skull dig into Niall’s bladder. Switching places with Eoghan is a thing that he wouldn’t be opposed to right now, especially since he’s feeling a bit sleepy himself and Eoghan’s head is growing heavier by the minute. 

Eoghan mumbles something unintelligible, mouth pressing into the side of Niall's tummy, breath warm and seeping through the fabric of his shirt. Niall takes a sip and tries to put the bottle down some place else. He can’t quite reach the table, or the side table, so he says, “Hey, wake up.” 

The snoring stops but there’s no movement. He stabs Eoghan in the side with the bottom of his bottle at the very moment his phone starts buzzing on the table. He peeks over and sees Bressie’s name light up on the screen. 

With a jolt, he bends forward so that Eoghan’s head rolls off his stomach and into his lap, growling moodily. He grabs the phone in exchange for his bottle, puts his feet back on the ground and settles back on the sofa. 

“What,” he grumbles from between Niall’s legs.

“Got a text from my boyfriend.”

Eoghan makes a retching sound. He loves teasing them, and Niall laughs it off.

“Éist do bhéal!” He smacks Eoghan lightly and ignores his protests in order to read the message.

_sorry again I couldn’t make it today, chief. wish I could have been there. promise I’ll make it up to you when I’m back…_

Niall’s toes curl into the carpet, not able to hide a smile while he types back.

_missed ya ! not t same without you_

“Now, get up, you twat. I need to pee,” Niall groans, before he types out another message: _can’t wait!!!! tell me more_ and adds an aubergine and eyes emoji.

“Right.” Eoghan moves out of Niall’s way. “Hope he gets his arse back soon, you’re such a grump when he’s gone.”  


  


***

_Harry_

“I’m requiring your cuddling services tonight, Niall,” Harry announces with a pout and a pillow jammed under his arm. 

“‘Course you are,” Niall rolls his eyes and pads back to the bed, hops on it and lies back down. “Missing your boyfriend again?”

Harry huffs theatrically, throws the pillow on the bed, next to Niall. He climbs on after it, all long limbs and awkward angles until he’s wrapped both his arms around Niall’s legs, head resting on his stomach. 

“You know we’re not _boyfriends_.”

“Hmm,” Niall hums. “Well, you’re _something_.”

It’s become a regular thing. Whenever Harry misses Nick too much and can’t Facetime or Skype him or talk to him on the phone or whatever they do when they’re apart, he comes looking for comfort. Sometimes Niall thinks of Harry like a cat, only comes around on his own terms, demands Niall’s affection and a hundred per cent of his attention. Certainly not as graceful as a cat, but delicate in his movements either way. Hell, he even purrs like one sometimes when they cuddle.

“Why’d you bring a pillow, anyway?” Niall asks, prodding at it with his index finger.

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles into Niall’s shirt. “For you?” He looks up at Niall with a wide smile and who can ever say no to those dimples?

He’s warmed to this arrangement they have, because even though it’s always Harry who comes to Niall, he takes comfort in these cuddle sessions just as much as Harry does. Fills the void whenever they’re on tour for months on end, when neither of them can be around Bressie or Nick, respectively.

“What are we watching?” Harry asks from where he’s plastered to Niall’s middle. He’s always so warm, which is nice and helps Niall relax and drift off to sleep more than he’d like to admit. 

By way of reply, he idly flips through the channels until he lands on a programme with Jamie Oliver, then stops and asks, “This?”

“Why not. You’re obsessed with him.”

Niall relaxes to the sound of Jamie blabbering on about something to do with spices and their origins, and it’s the familiarity of it, the sound of his thick, rich accent that feels like a little piece of home. He and Harry spend the rest of the show commenting on little things, silly things, share a few laughs and Niall’s heart grows lighter, his body heavier by the minute.

Later, when the soft breathing of Harry sleeping fills the room, Niall gently moves him off his belly, puts his head on the pillow Harry brought and goes to sleep himself.  


  


***

_Bressie_

Towering over Niall’s naked body, sweaty and panting and on all fours, Bressie leans in closer to nuzzle into his wet hairline. He’s humming quietly, content. His hands — almost just as big as Niall’s head — are resting on the bed next to it, framing him. He’s wrapped in Bressie’s affection, kind of like when he was little and would hide away from the world in a blanket fort. Bressie is that — his safe haven — now, he thinks, fuzzy-headed while Bressie’s leaving tender kisses all over the side of his face and down his neck. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” he whispers against Niall’s heated skin.

Niall’s head’s light, a warm sensation running through his limbs, trickling down into the deepest of his bones. He moves his hands up from where they were lying lax beside him on the sheets to wrap around Bressie’s middle, holding on to his back and pulling him down. Closer is what Niall wants to be right now, if that is even possible. 

He feels small, in the best way possible, though — enfolded by Bressie’s body, warm and safe. Niall’s breath hitches when Bressie’s stomach is close enough to make contact with his limp dick, lying heavy on his belly in a mess of his own come. Bressie pushes down smoothly and it’s sticky, messy between them. His hands clench in the muscles of Bressie’s back, pinching at the skin and flesh there until a growl rumbles out of his mouth against Niall’s earlobe. 

“Christ,” hisses Bressie, “you’re too much.”

His head moves up to lock eyes with Niall before he leans down and kisses him. It’s fierce, like he’s pouring everything into the kiss that he wasn’t able to say or do in the times they spent away from each other. Things like, _missed you_ , or _stay_ , or _you’re mine_ , and Niall shudders only at the thought of it, what it could possibly all mean.

“Wanna clean you up,” Bressie groans when he breaks away, their lips not touching anymore but still connected by warm, barely there strings of saliva.

Niall’s pulse is rabbiting the minute he looks into Bressie’s eyes, hungry and roaming over his hot face, while one of his hands drags through the mess on Niall’s belly. He holds Niall’s gaze when he brings it up to his face, licks the come off it, sucks his fingers clean. Niall’s burning up inside, as though a match has been struck in the pit of his belly when Bressie pushes off him lazily. 

“Can I?” he asks. It takes Niall a moment to react, but there was never really ever a chance of him denying Bressie anything, not with the way he makes him feel wanted and safe and like nobody’s ever made him feel before.

He gives a curt nod.

The heat of Bressie’s mouth on him is almost too much with the ghost of Bressie inside him still, where he’s so sensitive and delicate and bare. But he’s loose and wet, his dick stirring when Bressie’s tongue slowly fucks into him. 

The tickling sensation of Bressie’s come leaking out of him is something Niall’s never had before, and there was a time when he thought it would feel gross, but it never did with Bressie. He discovered it’s something that gets him all hot and bothered, something he can’t get enough of. 

Bressie’s finger slides in easily, his tongue all over him. It doesn’t take long until Niall’s coming undone again, hand soaring up to touch himself. The sounds Bressie makes are filthy, blending together with the squelching noises, and Niall can not only hear them, but feel them deep inside. He drinks it up, high with it until his thighs start to tremble and his stomach quivers. It hits him with an unexpected force, and he’s coming so hard he thinks he’s flying apart at the seams. His spunk is hot and coating his belly, some of it hitting his chin as he looks down and strokes himself through it. 

A full-body shiver runs through him when Bressie comes back up between his legs. He looks ravishing with the way his mouth is all pink and glistening with spit and come, it lures a soft moan out of Niall. Bressie ducks down, kisses his way up to Niall’s face, trailing light, sweet kisses along the path until their mouths connect again, Bressie’s tongue nudging at his lip, slipping inside. The taste of the kiss is mind-boggling; Niall licks it out of Bressie’s mouth, tastes the sharp tang of himself, the sweetness of Bressie, a compound of _them_.

“Did so good, pet,” Bressie breathes against his lips when he pulls back for air. 

Niall preens at the praise, fists a hand in Bressie’s hair, kisses him again until his lips numb.

Bressie moves down to his chin, finding the splatter of come and kissing him clean.

“Not done yet,” Bressie says before he moves lower, lapping at the blotches on his ribcage and all over his stomach. 

It prickles slightly, and Niall sighs, scratching gently at the sweaty hairs in the nape of Bressie’s neck. 

“Let me,” Niall offers, looking down.

Bressie shakes his head, burying his nose in Niall’s belly button. “‘M good, just wanna sleep.” 

The words are slurred. Bressie’s head finally rests on him. Niall keeps rubbing his neck smoothly until Bressie’s breathing slows down, breath hot on his tummy. 

Fleetingly, Niall wonders if this is how Harry spends his time off with Nick. Or if they fall asleep on each other’s bellies. How odd it is that all of them, and Louis, have one thing in common, that they all lay where Bressie rests now. Niall likes this the best, though. 

He feels as though his spine is melting, his whole body dissolving into the mattress, heavy with sleep.


End file.
